Showing posts from November, 2011

I built it. It came.

If you start a blog under the premise that you hate people, they come out of the woodwork like brain eating zombies and throw themselves at your feet. They tap tap tap your diamond rings, they roll up onto your driveway in a tank, they cough into your swimsuit, hopefully giving you dengue fever and they ask you the definition of the word collusion.

It's like The Secret. If you really really want something or really really resist something, it magically sits on your lap for a 10$ lap dance or something. Can you tell I haven't read that book? Can you tell I'm not going to?  Stories, everyone has them, I just have an eye (two, actually) for them. So, off I go warning the online tribe that I will come back with a story, sure enough, the dancer has lap sat.

"Excuse me miss, can you tell me what the word collusion means?" 

Points for the miss.

I look over and see uni bomber hat dude is pointing to the paper in front of him. Being of a trusting nature I actually check to…

I'm 45 bitches!

If you are an obviously deranged single man and you want to troll for chicks at a concert, by all means pick me. Lottery!

I mean, of course I'm sitting there holding my Johnny's hand and you are ever so clever, you picked me!  I mean the Greek sailor's hat and trench coat alone say come hither. Good call pretending to smack into me to start up the apology conversation. I almost divorced right then and there and left with you, really, truly. I must give you credit for actually looking into my eyes on the third go around the room as you were zeroing in closer - I must have something wrong with my aforementioned eyes since you look like you needed your Mommy after gazing into them.

Actually, getting the "Hey baby how you doin'?" at 45 is unexpected, more rare now and delightful. Except, sometimes I want to pull the boy by the ear and tell them I am old enough to...know when to shut up!

The sliding scale of what external beauty is slides to a halt somehow when th…

Death Star Canteen.

Asbestos abatement peeps are hilarious!

Wait? You didn't know that there was asbestos in my attic and it needs to be removed due to Irene leak? Of course it does, it's still 2011 silly.  Pay attention would you?

AW (asbestos woman) tells me when the removal time comes, it makes quite the impression and most people panic. I asked her to explain what a panic attack felt like. Crickets.

AW explained that the workers come with masks, suits, respirators and make decontamination corridors, depressurized air tents...She just wanted to make sure to set the alien movie scene since most people get frightened by the bio-hazard extravaganza.

Fight to the death? This is canteen.

Instead of thoughts riddled with anxiety festivals, I wondered if we could play a sound track in the background while colour coordinating the suits with my god awful floors and what size does a Dalmatian take. Ooh Ooh, will they wear adult diapers in their orange suits?  Is Dustin Hoffman available...

AW was still …

Not over until the fat lady sings.

The tension throughout my neighbourhood is palpable.

Things have changed. The post part 'em flood is not still waters any longer.

Men and women in trade trucks come down the road by the dozen every single day. Septic tanks replacements, french drains, new siding, rebuilt driveways, dry wall, insulation...All sorts of experts. We give them all our money in a crazed fashion hoping to appease the river and ground water levels.  Hoping to erase what cannot ever be unknown again.  Querying, asking, pleading to turn back the clock and do whatever it takes to make our abodes and lives as they were pre flood.

The river is at its highest it has ever been in November. For some reason, instead of waiting until next Spring for a just in case scenario, the need to do it now is akin to needing air. There is a driving force behind the flood refugees and no logic can stop them. Second and third mortgages, government helped, family bankrolled, co-signers up the wazoo - doesn't matter, winter …